Something Bad is Happening
by ArsenicAngel
Summary: A strain of the Muggle AIDS virus has been sweeping through the wizarding world. When it begins to hit home for Draco and Harry, the two of them take steps to ensure something is finally being done to help the victims.  - NOT A DEATH FIC.


**Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.  
><strong>AN:** This fic was the third (and last) that I wrote for the _Glompfest_ over at serpentinelion; many thanks to lorcalon for being an awesome beta and cheerleader while I wrote this.

* * *

><p>"Another one?" Draco nodded, pulling his lime-green healer robes from his shoulders and tossing them over the back of the couch. Setting his copy of the <em>Daily Prophet<em> aside, Harry shifted his position to pull Draco into his arms as he sat down. The blond leaned back against his chest with a sigh, closing his eyes and rubbing at them in exhaustion. His work hours had gotten longer over the past few months, leaving him little time for relaxing or even sleep. It was the cost of being the closest thing to a 'specialist' St. Mungo's had for the strange new virus that had found its way into the wizarding world.

"Macmillan," he said softly. Harry tensed behind him. In the five years since the first case of what they came to call WIDS had presented at St. Mungo's, they had learned very little about it. One of the few things they had learned, however, was the means of transmission.

"Do they know when he contracted it?" Harry asked, his voice tight with worry. After Draco had left his wife four years ago, he'd had a brief, nine-month affair with Ernie before they parted on less-than-amiable terms. Six months after that, Harry and he had run into each other; both recently single, they had connected and gone from there. But if Macmillan had contracted the disease before the affair...

"Most likely, it was recent." Draco's voice wasn't as certain as Harry had been hoping for, and he tightened his hold around the other wizard's waist. Survival after diagnosis, even in the early days, was usually months, perhaps a year. Still, there was no way of knowing for sure and for now, there was still no cure. Glancing down, Harry sighed as he saw the worry lines deepening in Draco's face as he watched the logs in the fireplace burn. There was a time to talk about whether or not they should be concerned, but now was obviously not it.

"You know, the kids are coming next week," he said softly, resting his chin on Draco's shoulder. The blond relaxed slightly in his arms and Harry saw a faint smile tugging at his lips. With their kids now in their later teens and at Hogwarts throughout most of the year, it was a bit of an occasion when Ginny and Astoria parted with them long enough to let them visit their fathers at the Manor for the month. It was a rather choppy way to break up the summer months, but it worked to ensure everyone got equal time. Neither of the women harbored enough ill will to prevent Harry or Draco from visiting other times, but it was nice to have them actually living at the Manor for a few weeks during the year.

ldquo;Scorpius still wants us to take him to that Muggle theatre again." Harry smiled at the comment, remembering James's grumbling about going to a theatre while Albus, Scorpius and Lily couldn't have been more excited. In the end, the eldest Potter boy had come around, although Scorpius was the only one who outright requested another trip.

"I'll take a trip into London for tickets tomorrow while you're at work." Draco gave his partner an appreciative smile at the offer, taking hold of his left hand with his own. Returning the smile, Harry pressed a gentle kiss against Draco's lips before pulling away. "Why don't I take you out for dinner tonight? We haven't gone out in quite a while."

Chuckling softly, Draco nodded, tugging Harry up with him as he rose. "That sounds wonderful, Harry." 

* * *

><p>"It is not a matter of financial backing, Mr. Potter!" The wizard across the table narrowed his beady eyes at Harry, reminding him distantly of his uncle Vernon. It certainly wasn't a mental image that helped his mood.<p>

"Of course not," he snapped back, sweeping the room with a glare of his own and watching as several of the assembled members shrank back in their chairs somewhat. "If it were as simple as finances, my vault would be empty and the problem would be solved!" Harry realized he was on the verge of shouting and took a slow, calming breath before speaking again. His voice was still dangerously icy, but was now at a more reasonable volume.

"It is a matter of all of you actually doing something about it, rather than sitting around a table and _talking_ about what you could do!" Unable to restrain his temper much more, Harry slammed one of his palms against the table as he looked from one board member to the next. "These people do not have the time to wait while you sit comfortably discussing this disease; and the longer you do just that, the more opportunity it has to spread."

"And what do you suggest we do, that we have not already done, Mr. Potter?" Harry looked over and met Kingsley's eyes with a sigh. Most members of the Ministry board were content to continue doing just as they had been since the first cases of WIDS appeared in the wizarding world. Kingsley, however, had been doing exactly as he was trying to do now- fighting for them to get off their arses and _do_something. Like Harry, his arguments had mostly fallen on deaf ears.

"Commission someone to find a cure." The man who had set him off moments before laughed openly at the suggestion and Harry focused his eyes on him again. "Is something funny, Mr. Whickers?"

He had the gall to grin, once again reminding Harry of his uncle, back when he was eleven and had mentioned Platform 9 ¾ for the first time. "You think we haven't considered it as an option, Mr. Potter? There's none can do it, because, as you so plainly stated, no one has the _time_ to be studied." Harry felt his blood boiling at the expression in the other wizard's face, seeming far too close to sadistic glee for a conversation such as this. "You can't expect anyone to blindly create some kind of cure without being able to study what it is he must counteract."

Forcing himself not to reach for his wand, Harry turned his eyes back to Kingsley. "A treatment, then. We can go from there." Before Whickers could have another outburst, he added, "Draco will do it." He kept his gaze trained on the Minister as he glanced to each member of the board for approval. In their turn, each nodded, although some considered him uncertainly for a moment.

"It is settled, then, Harry," Kingsley said, and he felt himself relax a fraction as he settled back into his seat. 

* * *

><p>Draco had a few choice words for Harry that night about exactly what he thought of his lover making commitments to the Ministry for him. Once his frustration over it had faded, however, the blond slumped wearily in his chair at the dining table with a sigh. "How am I going to do this, Harry?" he asked, placing his head in his hands. Placing his arm about Draco's shoulders, Harry took a seat beside him.<p>

ldquo;You know that if you don't want to, Kingsley won't hold it against you."

"No," Draco said, lifting his face slightly to run his fingers through the short length of his hair. "You know I _want_ to, although I'm not too pleased you signed me up for it without talking to me first," he added with a sideways glance at Harry. Sighing again, he leaned closer to Harry and laid his head on the other man's shoulder. "I just don't know that I'll to be able to do anything."

"You will, Draco," Harry said soothingly, moving his arm from Draco's shoulder to pull the other man closer by the waist. 

* * *

><p>With the Ministry's backing, Draco took a leave from St. Mungo's and immersed himself in the Manor's library. After his death in the Shrieking Shack during the Second Wizarding War, all of Severus Snape's possessions had been passed on to Draco. Among them had been an extensive collection of rare and ancient potions texts, as well as the man's own research notes that hadn't had the chance to come to fruition before he died. Draco had preserved them carefully with protective spells and housed the books in the library, leaving them untouched until now, hoping that they would be of some use in his own research.<p>

For the better part of a week, he spent every waking moment with his face buried in one text or another, looking for something he could build upon. The first few nights, he had taken to sleeping there, with his head resting on the crook of his arm. Harry hadn't had an easy time convincing Draco to return to their bed, although he had eventually won out by telling Draco that he'd be more likely to make progress if he spent the night on a mattress, rather than hunched over a book-covered table. It took the kids arriving at the Manor to really pull him from the library for any length of time.

"You know they're going to be upset, if you don't come," Harry said, fixing his tie in place over his Muggle dress shirt. His green eyes were locked on Draco's reflection in their bedroom mirror.

"I know. Merlin knows that I _want_ to go, Harry. But how do I justify going out for something enjoyable, when I'm no closer to finding an answer now than I was when I began?"

Harry sighed, shaking his head for a moment. Turning, he stepped towards the bed and knelt in front of Draco. "Draco, you can't expect this to come overnight. Two weeks is not long enough to have results; you know that as well as I." Reaching up, Harry took hold of both Draco's hands and squeezed them lightly. "You've done nothing but pour yourself over Severus's old notes since that first night. It's time to take a break."

"But..." Harry silenced his protest by leaning up to kiss his lover; just a gentle, almost pleading brush of lips against his.

"If you won't do it for me, then come for the kids." Draco's grey eyes met his for a moment and then the other man sighed, the hint of a smile touching the edges of his mouth.

"I suppose Scorpius will guilt me to death, if I don't come."

"Forget Scorpius," Harry said, smiling as he rose to his feet and summoned Draco's Muggle dress clothes from the wardrobe. "Ravenclaws have no talent for guilt." Two hangers drifted towards him, which he handed over to Draco. "No, I would be more concerned about that Slytherin daughter of mine. You know how attached to you she is." 

* * *

><p>"Would you stay?"<p>

Draco wasn't looking at Harry as he spoke, his grey eyes trained, instead, on the carpet beneath his feet. The two of them had gone together to St. Mungo's so that Draco could retrieve a few patient files that had been signed off on for his research. On their way through the ward that had been reserved for WIDS patients, Draco had caught sight of Ernie's room. Their former schoolmate had been in the ward for just over a month and he had deteriorated fast. Still, Ernie's boyfriend, Dennis, had been sitting in the chair beside his bed, holding his hand. He had looked as though he hadn't slept properly in quite some time, and a passing nurse confirmed that the other wizard had rarely left the room in the past weeks.

Sighing softly, Harry laid his book on the nightstand before reaching over to touch Draco's arm gently. "You really think I'd leave?"

"If somehow you hadn't caught it as well?" Draco was silent for a moment, and then his shoulders seemed to slump. "I don't know..."

"Draco," Harry said, his tone stern and his hand tightening slightly on Draco's arm as he turned the blond man to look at him. "Our last tests confirmed that we're both fine. And if we find out in the future that we're not," he added, noticing Draco's still worried expression and pulling the man into his arms, "then we will deal with it _together_."

His lover only offered a silent nod in return and that was the end of the conversation for the night. But Harry knew from his expression that Draco still had his doubts. Although the kids were still staying at the Manor for two more days, Draco spent as much of the next day as possible with the files laid out in front of him on his desk in the library. It took Scorpius entering the room and gaining his attention for him to finally look away from the pages, although his mind had wandered away from them nearly an hour before.

"James, Al, Lily and I are going into Diagon Alley for a while," Scorpius said casually. "Harry wanted me to remind you to go eat before we leave, though. He said dinner's going to get cold if you don't get down there."

Draco nodded slightly, pushing the files away and rubbing his eyes quickly. "I know... You four will be back after a while, I assume?" It was Scorpius's turn to nod and he gave his father a brief hug before leaving him alone in the library. When Draco finally made his way into the kitchen, he hadn't been expecting the scene he found there.

Harry was sitting in his own chair at their kitchen table, lazily swirling a glass of wine in one hand. Other than another glass set before Draco's own chair, there was nothing more on the table, except for a small black box that sat in its center.

"What's going on?" he asked, although in the back of his mind, he already had an idea. Placing his wine glass back onto the table, Harry reached forward to pluck the box up as he met Draco's eyes.

"I was planning to ask you to..."

"Harry," Draco interrupted, stopping his lover before he could open the box in his hands. "I don't want you asking what you're about to just because I'm insecure. It wouldn't b-"

"That's not why I'm asking, Draco." He said it so calmly that Draco was taken back for a moment. "You can ask Scorpius, if you wish. He can verify that I've been planning this for well over a month, although I had imagined it being under somewhat less stressful circumstances for you. Still," he continued, reaching out for Draco's hand to pull him closer, "I love you, and I have to ask." 

* * *

><p>"I've found it!" Harry looked up from his copy of the <em>Prophet<em> to meet Draco's eyes. The blond was desperately clutching a small stack of patient files in his pale hands, watching Harry eagerly from his place in the doorway. "I found it, Harry," he said again, finally moving closer. It had been more than six months now, and Draco looked terrible from lack of sleep. But Harry felt a faint flutter of excitement as he set his paper aside, hoping that his fiancé had indeed found the answer he'd been looking for.

Draco spread his files out on the coffee table near Harry and gestured him closer, waiting until Harry moved to kneel near him before he spoke again. "It's our blood," he said, pointing at one of the files.

"We've known that," Harry started, falling silent as Draco narrowed his grey eyes. "Sorry, continue," he said, looking back down at the papers in front of them. Draco tapped one finger against a line on the top file, which indicated the patient's blood-status.

"The Muggle-borns, on average, have survived the longest, once their condition begins to deteriorate."

"So?" Harry asked, arching one eyebrow as he looked back at Draco. The other man sighed and shuffled through his papers for another file.

"When a Muggle disease evolves in our world, it feeds as much on our magic as it does on anything. Blood-status makes no difference for the strength of our magic, but it does affect how we would react to a Muggle virus or one from the wizarding world." Finding the paper he had been searching for, Draco handed it over to Harry and pointed at the notes he has scrawled across the parchment.

"The magic in our blood is what allows our potions to have the desired effects, rather than what would happen if a Muggle were to take one. Our potions are designed to work _with_ our magic to do what they are meant to do. But this," he said, turning again to shift through the other files he had brought with him, "this disease doesn't only ravage our bodies, it affects our magic as well. Here!" With a small sound of triumph, Draco pushed a new paper into Harry's hands. "All of them are the same, Harry. As they get worse, their magic goes haywire. We've been trying to find a solution under the assumption that our magic couldn't be affected by a disease, but-"

"But we were wrong," Harry finished for him, handing the papers back to Draco. "What happens now, then?" he asked, watching as Draco seemed to relax for the first time in months.

"Now, I think you should take me to bed, before I fall asleep right here," the blond answered with a small smile. "And in the morning, I'll begin researching potions again, in hopes of finding a treatment that can work." The smile faded and Draco shook his head with a quiet sigh as he neatly gathered his notes back into a neat pile on the table. "I'm beginning to wonder if a cure will ever be possible, Harry."

Silently, Harry shifted a bit and wrapped his arms gently around Draco's waist. Pulling the other man into his lap, Harry tightened his hold comfortingly, letting the blond's head rest against his shoulder. "You're on your way to creating a treatment, Draco. That's a place to start," he said, pressing a light kiss to Draco's hair. "And it's good cause for hope, love."


End file.
